


Red

by Just_a_simple_trash_can



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Detective! Berenger, Fluff, M/M, Stripper Ancel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_simple_trash_can/pseuds/Just_a_simple_trash_can
Summary: Ancel is a man that prefers to keep to himself, but when a kind-hearted detective keeps worming his way back into Ancel's life, he can't help but to be curious about his intentions





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> This was only supposed to be 1,000 words and originally it was going to be part of my Mob Boss AU but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3 <3

October 26th

“Ancel, you have someone waiting for you in the back room.” 

Ancel turned to face Erasmus, a man who was far too good to be working in a place like White Rose. He was the very definition of purity yet there he stood, wearing nothing but a pair of fishnet stockings and a thong that accentuated his dick. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Ancel supposed. 

“Which room?” Ancel asked, clicking the cap back onto the lipstick he was using.

“Three. An accountant I think. Thirty-something guy in a suit.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Simple. Black suit with a brown coat over it. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Not really the type of guy that would frequent this place.”

“I’ll be right there.” Simple guys were the easiest to play to Ancel. All he had to do was smile pretty and compliment them in some way and they were putty in his hands. 

Ancel stood up, glancing at himself one last time in the mirror before walking out the door.

The back rooms were the exclusive rooms, each varying in appearance and tier. The premium, the diamond, and the platinum. The higher the tier, the higher the cost and the nicer the furniture i.e. being able to fuck someone on an actual bed as opposed to a couch. Five hundred dollars or more and you and the stripper of your choice could do whatever you wanted for an hour. Their creation began when certain (read: richer) patrons of White Rose wanted more hands-on experience and were willing to pay for it. 

White Rose was as high class as they got. Three stories high and in the dead center of downtown Arles, the club was a hot spot for everyone from high up business men to every Steve or John on this side of the country. Every single person who walked through those front doors was more than willing to empty their wallets for a good drink and a pretty face. So when high class business men and women offered money for a private performance or more, neither the owners of the club nor the strippers themselves wanted to turn down the offer. Blowjobs and handjobs were the most common acts that happened in the back rooms, but every once in a while, someone who was bold as hell would come in and ask for something more if someone was interested and nine times out of ten, the orgasms were great and the tips were fucking fantastic.

Ancel had never fucked anyone in the club. Hardly any of the strippers had but Lazar, a stripper who had been at the club years longer than Ancel had, usually had stories to tell from the appointments he had taken. While Lazar was an acquired taste, Ancel respected him. He was bold and didn’t really have a censor, but he had helped Ancel and Erasmus and some of the younger strippers with some of the more difficult clients. He was a man to be admired all things considered.

When it came to Ancel, men were far more interested in seeing his head between their legs. He was a favorite among the club’s more common patrons; a redhead with a fiery personality and long legs was hard to resist, especially with how flexible he was. Ancel knew how men spoke about him, whether they liked him or not, and he had long adjusted to their words. He knew what he was and what he wasn’t and he wasn’t the kind of man who let a man that was cheating on his wife call him a bitch. 

The back rooms were all on the third floor in the very back of the building, far enough away from the music and the cheers of the club patrons to allow for some privacy. The third back room was located at the end of the hall, was the platinum room, the door decorated with a large metal number three. The premium and the diamond rooms were virtually the same, a couch and loveseat in both. The only real difference was the quality of the furniture. The platinum room, however, had both and a bed. Commonly, it was used for bachelor/bachelorette parties or celebrations were multiple strippers were going to be working. It was the most expensive as well. The diamond and premium only had a two hundred dollar difference between them, but the platinum was two thousand for the entire space for an hour and included bar food and some of their finest alcohol. Like he said, it was mostly for parties. Never had Ancel heard anything about a single man throwing out two thousand dollars for an hour with a stripper., but no matter what happened, he got a large cut of the final payment so he wasn’t about to complain. 

Fixing his hair one last time, Ancel knocked twice on the door and turned the knob.

“Hello, sir,” he started before he even walked in. “What can I do for you tonight?”

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

Who the fuck? Ancel thought. Spends two thousand dollars to talk to a stripper? He looked up at the man sitting on the couch across from the door. Just like Erasmus had said, the man was simple. He wore a nice black suit with an ugly brown jacket over it. The man himself was not drinking or smoking or jacking himself off like any of the men Ancel had met with before. In fact, the man sat with one leg crossed over the other, holding some device in his hand.

“These rooms aren’t usually used for talking.” Still, Ancel crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He was curious, if anything, and it would make for a great story.

The man fiddled with the device for a moment before looking directly up at Ancel. “My name is Berenger Leroux. I hate to drag you away from work like this, but it was imperative that I talked to you in private. I was hoping to talk to you about the incident that happened on the seventeenth.”

The seventeenth? What is he...

“You’re a cop.” Ancel stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. His face was probably as red as his hair. He did not want to talk to a cop; it didn’t matter what he was getting paid.

The man nodded. “An associate of yours contacted me. He was concerned because you hadn’t reported the incident yourself.”

Fucking Erasmus.

“Get fucked. It’s none of your business.”

“It was assault so the crime itself is my business.” The man pressed something on the device and set it aside.

Ancel crossed his arms over his chest. “What is that?”

“It’s a recorder. I was listening back to what your associate told me over the phone and in-person before you came here. This conversation, however, can just be between us.”

“This conversation isn’t going to be between anyone.” Ancel clenched his jaw. “It isn’t important. I didn’t report it because it didn’t need to be. I don’t want to talk about it, especially not with you.”

To Ancel’s surprise, the man simply nodded and stood up. “Of course. I completely understand. Your friend was rather persistent and wanted me to at least try to talk to you. You are allowed to not press any charges.” The man pulled out a card and held it out to Ancel. “But you’re just as allowed to press charges. If you change your mind, my phone number is on there. Give me a call if you’re comfortable.” The man then walked out, closing the door behind him.

Ancel stood in front of the bed, somewhere between angry and confused. He should have known that Erasmus was going to tell someone about the slap but… 

He shook his head. Erasmus cared about people with all of his heart, especially the people he worked with. It wasn’t surprising that he wanted to help Ancel. Still…

“Ugh,” Ancel groaned, falling back onto the bed. He flipped the card in his hand. It was nothing special; just a basic business card with the cop’s name, phone number, and email. He had given the card to Ancel in hope that he would call and turn in the guy who hit him. 

But Ancel wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t lose anything by turning the guy in; the fucker hadn’t even paid him for his dance. Twenty-two years Ancel had been alive and he learned quickly that he wasn’t going to take anyone’s shit. That involved not tucking his tail between his legs and running for help. He could handle this himself.

But could Erasmus? The question invaded his thoughts, pulling him back to earth. Could Erasmus handle men like him as well as you?

Ancel could be hit and still be able to spit blood in the person’s face. Erasmus had been slapped once and had frozen up completely. Given, it had happened during his first month of working at the club, but he and Ancel were different people. Erasmus was doing this so he could help his parents with bills and pay for his education. People like him didn’t deserve to get treated like shit. 

But the son of a bitch that hit Ancel would hit Erasmus twice as hard without even thinking about it. And god forbid he wouldn’t take Erasmus’ no for an answer. 

“Motherfucker,” Ancel hissed. He pushed himself off the bed and stormed out of the room. He needed to think somewhere else.  
***  
November 2nd 

Ancel ended up calling the cop the following weekend. A full week he waited to call, antsy and on edge, constantly keeping his eyes on Erasmus and even taking jobs for him when Ancel thought the man might be too rough for him. Everything had gone fine, of course, but Ancel never regretted his decision. 

When Ancel did finally call, he made it known that they would only meet under his terms. 

1\. They’d go to a small, unknown coffee shop that hardly anyone frequented. Ancel didn’t need anyone recognizing him.

2\. They would meet at 10, just after the morning crowd but far enough before the lunch crowd so the place would be almost, if not completely, empty.

3\. The cop would wear anything but that god awful brown trench coat. If Ancel was going to meet with this man, he was going to look the least bit fashionable. 

And finally 

4\. They would never speak again after this meeting. If the cop ever went back to the strip club, he wouldn’t order a dance from Ancel. The man would delete his number and they would never have another interaction.

Surprisingly, the cop agreed to all of Ancel’s terms and with that, Ancel secured his meeting with the type of man Ancel swore he would never associate himself with.

Ancel sat in the coffee shop on the designated day, ten minutes before his meeting. He had been picking at his bagel for the past twenty minutes and his coffee was cold and undesirable. 

Soon enough, a bell chime echoed through the shop, attracting Ancel’s attention. The cop stood by the doorway, his hair brushed back, wearing a black suit with a dark blue tie. A black trench coat, thank god, hung over his arm. Everything looked the same as before, all but the glasses. Thin black frames that hadn’t been there when Ancel saw him at the club. 

The man soon spotted Ancel and a small smile formed on his face. Ancel straightened up, pushing his barely eaten breakfast aside. He felt uneasy and suddenly regretted agreeing to the meeting.

“Good morning,” the cop said. “I’m glad you decided to meet with me.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The cop nodded and sat down in the chair across from Ancel. “Would you mind if I recorded this conversation? I’ll need the testimony for my report.”

Ancel didn’t know shit about what this guy did or didn’t need but nonetheless, he gave a nod, hoping the meeting would end sooner if he cooperated.

“Thank you. If at any time you want to stop, tap your finger on the table and I’ll pause the recording. Tell me only what you’re comfortable with being recorded.”

Ancel nodded again. Here went fucking nothing. The man pressed a button on the recorder and moved it to the middle of the table.

“This is a victim’s statement for a physical assault. Present is Detective Berenger Laroux ID number 29602.” He glanced up at Ancel. “I need you to provide your full name.”

“Ancel Delaine.”

“How old are you?”

Ancel sighed. “Twenty-two.”

“Can you tell me about what happened on October 17th of this year?”

Ancel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fight or flight response kicking in. His determination to keep his life as private as possible was at war with his urge to keep scumbags away from Erasmus.

“It started like any other shift,” Ancel started. “It was about ten-thirty at night. I had just finished my second backroom appointment when one of the dancers came to get me. One of the girls had injured her ankle and I needed to take her place on the floor. Everything was fine until I came across Ricky. Ricky was- is a regular. Comes by at least four times a week, never asks for the same dancer, never tips.” Ancel brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. “You don’t have to tip a stripper, but you do have to pay for a lap dance. This scumbag never does. Anyway, he asked for me. I went over to his table and gave him my prices. I’ve been cheated enough in my life to know that I need to get paid first or I probably won’t get paid at all. When I told him it was two hundred for a dance, he laughed in my face.” Ancel closed his eyes and dug his nails into his leg. “Called me a slut and said that I should be happy that he even wanted to look at my face. I’ve been called worse so I repeated my prices. Again, he called me a slut and said that he was a long-time customer and was entitled not to pay for something a whore like me should be giving away for free. I wasn’t going to be insulted again so I told him to get fucked and walked away. That’s when he grabbed my wrist. He turned me around and slapped me. Hard. I lost my balance and hit my head on the corner of the table. Security came by then and threw him out. I haven’t gone near him since then.”

“Can you tell me what he looks like?”

Ancel pulled his hand away from his leg and tapped his finger against the table twice. The cop immediately pushed a button on the recorder.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“I could…” Ancel shook his head. “I’m not good at describing people, but I could probably give you a sketch.”

The cop raised a curious eyebrow but nodded. He flipped to an empty page in his notebook and pushed it over Ancel along with a pencil. Ancel took the pencil in hand and began to make an outline He kept his attention focused on the drawing, only stopping to let his hand and wrist rest before continuing on.

“Here,” he said about an hour later. Neither man had spoken the entire time. Ancel put the pencil down and pushed the notebook over to the cop. “It isn’t perfect, but that should be enough to make an identification right?”

“This is…” the cop’s voice drifted off. Ancel couldn’t read his face.

“It’s the best I can do,” Ancel replied coolly. “I haven’t drawn in years so I’m rusty.”

“Rusty? Ancel, this is amazing.”

Ancel looked back down at the table, resisting the urge to dig his nails back into his legs. Having this stranger call him by his name so casually felt...odd. “Whatever. Just tell me that I wasted an hour here and let’s finish this.”

The cop looked up at him, confused and seemingly concerned. “Wasted? What are you talking about?”

“No investigation is ever going to be done, right? You’ll tell me that you’ll do everything in your power to arrest him, but nothing is going to happen after this. I’ve been through this shit before. I know how it goes.”

The cop frowned. “Well, I’ll admit that with the holidays being so close, resources will go to the more complicated investigations, but I will be keeping an eye on the club and on Ricky so that this doesn’t happen again.”

Ancel rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you will, Officer.”

“Detective, actually, but if you’d like, you can call me Berenger.”

Fuck you and your first name basis. Ancel felt himself flinch at the thought. Perhaps that was too harsh.

“Though I suppose based on your terms that we won’t be seeing much of each other after this.” The detective began to pack away his things. “I do appreciate that you met with me, Ancel. If you’d like, I can try to keep you updated on the-”

Ancel pushed himself away from the table before he could continue. Without another word or even a glance towards the detective, Ancel walked out of the coffee shop. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number on his recent calls list. He hadn’t even put a name to the number. He pressed his thumb down on it and moved to press the ‘block this caller’ button. He didn’t though. His finger hesitated above it but never moved.

With a frustrated sigh, Ancel locked his phone and continued his walk back to his apartment.  
***  
November 9th

Berenger Laroux was a detective with the Arles Police Department. He was also the most boring man in the world. No social media other than a Facebook page with only one post from when he made the account. His only picture was that of a dog that he also used as his profile picture.

It was strange. Ancel half expected to see a Facebook profile full of pictures of his wife and kids and white picket fence and golden retriever. If it hadn’t been for his friends list being filled with people in law enforcement, Ancel might have assumed he was looking at the wrong profile.

“Maybe he’s divorced,” Vannes said. She was the head bartender at White Rose and the person who had the unfortunate pleasure of being stuck listening to Ancel complain about Berenger since Erasmus had the day of. She had only become interested in his ranting when Ancel slammed his phone down and hissed out how boring the man was. “Or he’s a serial killer.”

“He’s not a serial killer,” Ancel said, picking up his cosmopolitan. He pulled the lemon peel off of the glass and tossed it onto a napkin. “Though he might be a little more interesting if he was.”

“What’s the sudden interest in his personal life? Ten minutes ago, you were bitching about him and his stupid coats.”

“I’m bitching because he was nice and cops are only nice when they want something from you and I’m pissed at myself for agreeing to talk to him.”

“Ricky almost gave you a concussion, Ancel. If Erasmus hadn’t contacted this guy, I would have told the cops everything myself.”

Ancel rolled his eyes and finished his drink. “Whatever. It’s over and done with.”

Vannes raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged, a small smirk dancing on her lips. “Is it possible that the sudden interest in a seemingly attractive and well-mannered detective stems from you wanting to fuck him?”

Ancel slammed his hands on the bar counter. “Absolutely not!”

She laughed, hard enough that tears sprung from her eyes. “Come on, angel,” she said through laughs. “You have to admit, the guy isn’t half bad. He’s certainly one of the better-looking men that have come through here.”

“Then you sleep with him!”

“Nah. I don’t swing that way. You on the other hand-”

“I like getting complimented and being spoiled. I’ve never cum because someone read me my miranda rights.” 

“You never know. That guy could secretly be a dom or something.”

“Please,” Ancel snorted. “There’s not a fucking chance.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

The glare Ancel gave her could make anyone’s heart stop.

“You don’t scare me, angel.” Vannes picked up his glass from the counter and began to wash it out. “Maybe the guy just isn’t married.”

“But how could he not be? Men like him are always married. They have pretty blonde wives and snotty kids and wear expensive suits.”

“Does he really look like a dad to you? A daddy, maybe, but not a dad.”

“I don’t know why I ask you for advice.” Ancel stepped onto the floor as Vannes laughed again. 

“You ask me for advice because I’m the only one that lets you bitch without telling you that you’re a bitch.” She put the glass she was cleaning away and looked at Ancel. “Look. Do you want some genuine advice? If you’re so curious about the guy, talk to him. I’m sure you’re gonna end up seeing him again.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s waiting on hand and foot to talk to me again.”

“Like I said, you never know.” She gave him a wink, making him groan as he walked away from the bar.

Ancel would not be talking to Berenger Leroux again. He had already fucked up by talking to him in the first place; the last thing he needed was to make a lasting connection with the man.  
***  
November 25th

Ancel walked into the dressing room, his hair soaked with sweat and clinging to his shoulders. The heater blasting warm air throughout the club plus the overwhelming heat that radiated from the stage lights meant that Ancel felt more than a little disgusting. The ‘sexy’ Santa outfit that he had worn for his performance no less than clung to his skin when he tried to take it off.

He collapsed onto one of the couches in the room and closed his eyes, relishing in the cool air around him. The dressing rooms usually ran cold and this was the only time Ancel had been thankful for it. A headache had formed sometime in the middle of his set, whether because of the strobe lights or the heat, and had yet to cease. He turned onto his side, curling his legs close to his chest and pressing his face into a pillow. No one would chastise him if he took a quick nap.

It was quiet, the one thing that Ancel needed at that moment. He wanted to focus on work, but the only thing that was running through his head was how he hadn’t seen Ricky that night. He hadn’t seen the man any other night for that matter. 

It was a coincidence, Ancel decided. Ricky had hit one of the dancers and he had been banned from the club. It just so happened that Ancel had given a name and a drawing off his assailant to a cop who promised to investigate him to the best of his ability. It wasn’t like the detective had even done anything. He was getting nothing out of helping Ancel so why would he-

The dressing room door opened, pulling Ancel out of his thoughts. Instead of addressing the intruder, he grabbed another pillow and pressed it to his face to avoid conversation. 

“There you are,” Erasmus said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I have a gift for you.”

Ancel removed the pillow from his face and looked at his coworker. Erasmus was indeed holding a decently sized box wrapped in red paper. He didn’t look like he was bothered by the heat.

“I told you,” Ancel said, burying his face back into the pillow. “I don’t want you to buy me gifts no matter how many extra tips you get.”

“This isn’t a gift from me, but I do have a Christmas gift in mind for you and you’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Ancel sighed and sat up completely. “Who is it from then?” He thought back to all the men he had performed for. None of them had seemed like the giving type.

“Do you remember the accountant from last month?” Oh.

Ancel’s eyebrows furrowed. “You mean the one you told me was an accountant who ended up being a detective?”

Erasmus gave him a sweet smile as he handed over the box. “We haven’t seen Ricky since then, have we?”

“No, we haven’t but…”

“I’m sorry for lying to you.” Erasmus rested his head on Ancel’s shoulder despite him being at least five inches taller than Ancel. The contact didn’t help how hot Ancel still was but he didn’t push Erasmus away. "I know how you feel about law enforcement, but I wanted to make sure that Ricky didn’t get away with hurting you.”

“I only talked to him to protect you.” Ancel shook his head. “Just warn me next time I’m going to be talking to a cop. I’d rather not be arrested for saying something that would deem me as less than likable.”

“You’re always likable, Ancel.” Without warning, Erasmus wrapped his arms tightly around Ancel. “You don’t need to worry about protecting me. Just take care of yourself and I’ll protect both of us.” He pulled away and curled up close to Ancel. “You’re burning up. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Ancel mumbled. “I don’t know how you’re not melting. You were on stage longer than I was.”

“I grew up in the heat. This is nothing compared to the summers back home.” He nudged Ancel lightly. “Now open your gift. The detective said that he got it to thank you for your help.”

“He was here?”

“I ran into him on my break. He said something about how the two of you agreed that he wouldn’t ask for you personally, but he wanted to make sure that you got the gift, so I offered to take it for him.” 

Ancel ran his fingers along the top of the box. Carefully, he ripped open a corner of the paper and began tearing it away. Underneath the paper was a plain brown box that Ancel slowly opened. At first glance, the only thing in the box was a sketch pad, but when he pulled it out, he found two similar pads underneath as well as several packages of sketching pens and pencils.

“Drawing supplies?” Erasmus asked. “I didn’t know that you drew.”

That was because Ancel never told anyone. Because no one had ever cared. When Ancel learned that he was decently good at drawing, he told every adult around him, but none of them even gave him a glance. Some said that his drawings weren’t good enough. Others said that they were just a waste of time and supplies. So he stopped drawing altogether. 

And then Berenger, who Ancel was starting to see as a fucking enigma, gives him a gift to thank him.

“He’s sweet.” Erasmus picked up one of the sketch pads and began to flip through it.

“He is, isn't he?” Ancel didn’t understand why the detective had done this. Sure, men had spoiled Ancel before, but that had been with money and jewelry. Nothing personal. Nothing like this.

“I’d love to see one of your drawings sometime. I bet you’re amazing.”

He certainly thinks I am Ancel thought. He closed the box and set it aside.

“I’ll draw you something then.” Ancel changed the subject, not wanting to overthink what the gift meant. “For Christmas. If you’re getting me something-”

“Then you have to do something for me,” Erasmus finished with a smile. “You don’t like owing people favors, I know.” He gave Ancel another tight hug before walking back over to the door. “You’re done for tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Ancel stood up and walked over to his vanity. “But I’m working until midnight tomorrow.”

“Be careful then. Call me if anything happens.” Erasmus gave Ancel a wave and walked out of the room.

Ancel began to get dressed, his attention continuously moving back to the box that still sat on the couch. He ignored the way his stomach tied itself in knots. It didn’t mean anything. The detective wanted something from Ancel. That was the only explanation for the gift. And Ancel was going to figure out what he wanted.  
***  
November 26th

Ancel found himself walking to the police station the next morning with two cups of coffee in hand. Everything he had done that morning had been with the detective on his mind. Ancel from ten years ago, hell Ancel from two months ago, would have kicked his ass for getting this close to a cop. Growing up, in Ancel’s mind, cops or law enforcement, in general, had never been trustworthy.

But this one was different. Or maybe he wasn’t. Ancel still wasn’t exactly sure. Sometime between when he left the club for the night and when left his apartment the following morning, he began to wonder if the detective really had an ulterior motive. 

From what little Ancel knew about him, Berenger Leroux didn’t seem like the type of man who manipulated people, but Ancel had misjudged people before. And that’s what he hated about Berenger. Ancel couldn’t read the man as well as he wanted. He couldn’t figure out what his intentions were. And it pissed him off beyond belief. There was a chance that he was going to get screwed over and he had no idea how to stop it.

So Ancel went back on his word and decided to seek Berenger out first. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew for sure what Berenger wanted from him.

Ancel still had Berenger’s card buried deep in his wallet. He at least knew what station worked at and would have to figure things out from there. Would he even be allowed to talk to Berenger while he was working? Were civilians able to just walk inside a police station and ask to speak to specific cops for personal reasons? 

Ancel swore, stopping in his tracks. What if Berenger wasn’t even at the station? Ancel was only a block away and he was going to be pissed if he walked for thirty minutes in fifty degree weather for nothing. Ancel set the cups down on a newspaper dispenser and pulled out his phone. Berenger’s phone number was still in his contacts. He had never gotten around to blocking or deleting it.

Part of him thought Berenger kept his side of the bargain and deleted his number. Another part assumed Berenger would just ignore the call upon seeing the caller I.D. No part of him expected Berenger to answer the call.

“Ancel?” came a surprised voice. “Is everything alright?” He sounded worried. 

“Are you at work right now?” Ancel kept his voice as neutral as he could, not wanting to give anything away.

“Yes, I am. Why?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Ancel quickly ended the call, picked the coffees back up, and continued his walk to the station.

Berenger was leaning against the wall by the entrance to the station when Ancel walked up. His attention was completely focused on his phone. He was wearing a different, but equally brown trench coat that completely contrasted with the blue suit he was wearing.

“Clearly,” Ancel said. “You don’t get paid enough. I can’t think of another reason why you have two unfashionable brown jackets.”

Berenger smiled but didn’t look up. “Actually, I own six.”

Ancel let out a disgusted groan and held out one of the cups to Berenger. “Here. I got you black because you seem boring enough to enjoy it like that.”

“With that logic, I assume yours is more sugar than actual coffee.”

“Shut up.” 

Still smiling, Berenger took a sip. “Not that I mind your company, but why the surprise visit?”

“You enjoy my company?” That didn’t sound right. Ancel hadn’t been polite to Berenger once since they met. How could anyone enjoy that?

“The office can get boring. You, however, are quite the opposite. You’re intriguing.”

Ancel’s face was red because of the cold and nothing else.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said. The words felt strange in his mouth, but he had to play his part. “For the gift. I...It was certainly unexpected.” He looked directly at Berenger’s face, watching closely for any eye or lip movement. 

“It was to thank you for your intel. From what you gave me, I was able to connect Ricky, or Raymond Samson, to six other assault crimes. Thanks to you, a dangerous man is off the streets.”

It wasn’t a bribe? 

Ancel shook the thought off. “I only did it to keep Erasmus safe.” 

“You’re a good person, Ancel.” Ancel’s face grew warm.. “I’m glad I got the chance to-” A loud blaring alarm stopped Berenger from finishing whatever he was going to say. “Ah. I’m sorry, Ancel, but I have to get back to work. Thank you for the coffee.”

“It’s not-” It was Ancel’s turn to be stopped mid-sentence, though he was stopped by Berenger taking off his horrendous jacket and resting it on Ancel’s shoulders.

“You walked here, correct? I’d rather you not catch a cold because of me. It’s getting too cold outside for just one jacket.”

I don’t want your stupid jacket Ancel thought, but the garment never moved from his shoulders.

“Have a good day, Ancel.”

Ancel was speechless. He pulled the jacket on the rest of the way, relishing in the warmth and the faint smell of mint.

Shit.  
***  
December 1st 

Ancel looked at his phone after his shift, surprised to find a text notification. Erasmus was the only person that texted him, but the brunette was still working on the floor.

9:38 PM From Berenger: Would you like to grab lunch sometime this week? It’s on me.

Ancel’s fingers moved across the screen before his brain fully processed the text. Thankfully, his brain caught up with his hands just before his thumb hit send. He’d only had three conversations with the man and two of them were work-related. Ancel had insulted the man and his clothing and the man laughed as if Ancel had told a humorous joke and gave his jacket to Ancel. Despite that, Berenger Leroux was still a stranger and a cop. Ancel wasn’t an idiot. He needed to stay a step ahead at all times if he really was being fucked over. 

11:47 PM To Berenger: I want Italian

Shit. He hadn’t meant to send that. Three gray bubbles appeared a minute later.

11:49 PM From Berenger: Whatever you would like, Ancel. 

Whatever he would like? He was certainly eager to please. Ancel’s fingers tapped on the screen.

11:51 PM To Berenger: I don’t work Wednesday

11:52 PM From Berenger: I’ll see you Wednesday then. Goodnight, Ancel.

Ancel slid his phone into his back pocket and sighed angrily. Why had he said yes? The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Berenger and his stupid jackets and his nice hair and his handsome face and-

“No.” The word fell from Ancel’s lip. “No no no.” Berenger was not handsome. He was anything but the sort. He was boring and had a terrible taste in fashion and was too nice and probably had a wife-

11:54 PM To Berenger: Are you married

There. Ancel would get an answer and from there he would figure out how to deal with this. Ancel was a lot of things, but he was not a paramour. 

He waited less than patiently the rest of the night for Berenger to text back, but his message was never opened.

Bastard.

Now, more than ever, he had to go to lunch with Berenger, if only to find the truth.  
***  
December 4th

“I’m looking for Berenger.” Ancel hadn’t wanted to walk into the police station but Berenger was twenty minutes late and wasn’t answering any of his texts. He’d sent a text to Ancel earlier that morning to let him know that he would be in a meeting that day.

He hadn’t given Ancel an answer about his marital status. It made Ancel just a bit more nervous. He didn’t like being used.

The woman at the front desk looked at a clipboard with a hum. “He should still be here,” she said. “He hasn’t signed out for today.”

“Ancel!” The voice called from an adjoining hallway. Berenger walked over to the desk, another brown jacket over his arm. It looked almost exactly like the jacket Ancel had draped over his couch. “Hi, Kasey. I’m going on my lunch break.”

The woman, Kasey, smiled as she handed the clipboard over. Ancel watched closely as Berenger grabbed the clipboard with his left hand and began writing with his right. He couldn’t see any rings.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” Berenger said as he handed back the clipboard. “My lieutenant needed to speak to me about one of my cases.”

“It’s fine.” Ancel turned on his heel and walked out of the station. Berenger followed closely behind him.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Ancel mindlessly ran his hand along his ponytail. He had completely forgotten that he had put it up. “Thanks.” He kept his head down and walked a few steps ahead of Berenger. He hated how conflicted he felt.

It didn’t make any sense. Dozens of men over the years had complimented and spoiled Ancel until their wallets were empty and their hearts were broken and Ancel had just smiled and thanked them. Berenger, however, made him flustered and panicked. He made Ancel’s stomach twist into knots and his heart tighten. The telltale signs of a crush, Erasmus would say, which was not what this was. Ancel was going to find out what Berenger was getting out of their ‘relationship’ and they were never going to see each other again. Easier said than done considering the fact that butterflies formed in his stomach when Berenger’s hand accidentally brushed against his.

The walk to the restaurant was quiet. The weather outside was just above freezing, but Berenger had insisted that the restaurant he was taking them to was only a short walk away from the station.

“If I get sick, I’m making you take care of me,” Ancel said, finally giving in and ruining his look by buttoning his jacket.

Berenger let out a laugh. “I can’t say that I’m the best nurse, but I’ll try my best.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ancel could see Berenger looking down at him. “Are you alright? You aren’t cold, are you?’”

Ancel was cold but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m fine. You’ll run out of ugly jackets if you keep giving them to me.”

“I’m sure you’d treat them well.”

“You put too much faith in me. I’ve already burned the one you gave me last time I saw you.”

“A shame. I liked that one.” There was humor in his tone that made Ancel smile just a little bit.

A loud whistle echoed through the air and Ancel felt Berenger grab his arm and pull him close. “Hey, sexy,” a slurring man’s voice yelled. “Why don’t you come have some fun with us?” 

Ancel couldn’t see the catcaller, but Berenger evidently could. He wrapped a tight arm around Ancel’s shoulders and led them quickly down the sidewalk. Berenger didn’t let go of his shoulders until they had turned a corner and even then he stayed close. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, still looking over his shoulder in case the catcaller had followed them.

“Yeah,” Ancel replied. “You didn’t have to do that. It isn’t the first time I’ve been catcalled.”

“You don’t deserve to be catcalled at all. Your occupation nor your appearance gives anyone any right to speak to you that way.”

Ancel was speechless. Berenger seemed to have a talent for making him that way. Every part of his brain stopped functioning as he tried to figure out exactly what Berenger was saying. Everything that came out of Berenger’s mouth, even if it was something Ancel had heard hundreds of times before, sounded different. Sounded more special. 

“Are you married?” The question came out without Ancel being able to stop himself. “I have to know.”

Berenger looked down at him, a curious eyebrow raised. “Am I…” He stopped and shook his head. “No. No, I’m not. I’m not sure where you got that idea from.” 

“Okay,” Ancel said. He felt calmer, but only a bit. He grabbed the sleeve of Berenger’s jacket, careful not to let their fingers touch. “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”  
***  
Lunch had gone better than Ancel thought thankfully. The rest of their walk had been quiet, neither of them saying a word until they walked into the restaurant and Berenger had asked the hostess for a table for two. It was a small hole in the wall place with soft piano music playing over the speakers. The hostess led them to a table in the back of the restaurant, giving them two menus and a list of their specialty wines.

“Do you drink?” Berenger asked.

“Not often,” Ancel answered. He hid his face behind the menu. “Don’t really have the time to enjoy it.”

“They have a lovely collection of wines here. Perhaps we can come back here for dinner sometime and I can show you a few.”

“Do you come here often?” Ancel kept the conversation going; he didn’t want to delve too deeply into anything Berenger said.

“This is where the department usually goes to celebrate the ending of more strenuous cases, mostly the ones that put the hardest strain on us.”

“Didn’t you say you were working on a case?” Ancel could see Berenger nod over the top of his menu. 

“Several, actually. I can’t go into too much detail, unfortunately, but I mainly work with assault cases and investigations.”

“Which is how Erasmus found you.” 

“I believe so. I don’t know too much about how he found me, but I believe one of the officers at the precinct directed him to me.” Berenger fell silent as a waitress approached the table to ask for their drink orders. She left only a moment after, giving them a few more minutes to look over the menu. Ancel hadn’t even read over the dishes. “Ancel,” Berenger continued. “Might I ask something a bit personal?”

Ancel’s fight or flight response kicked in immediately and his only thought was to run from the restaurant and never look back. But he didn’t. He kept his feet planted on the ground and looked up at the detective. “Sure.”

“Why do you want to know if I’m married? I didn’t respond to your text because I wanted to ask you about it in person.”

What was Ancel supposed to say? That he possibly liked Berenger and wanted to know if he had a chance? That if Berenger was married, he wanted to know what their relationship was? That he wanted to know how Berenger felt about him? 

Instead what he came up with was, “Your Facebook doesn’t have any pictures on it.” 

Berenger didn’t seem to believe that answer, but he didn’t press Ancel on it. “A friend of mine had me create it years ago, but I only use it to RSVP to precinct events. I’m not one for social media.”

“Right.” Ancel looked back down on the menu but found that he couldn’t focus on any of the items.

“Are you sure that‘s the only reason?”

Ancel’s saving grace came in the form of the waitress coming back with their drinks and asking for their orders. He picked the first thing that he saw, some chicken and pasta dish that was hopefully decently inexpensive. 

“I’ll have those right our for you, Mr. Leroux,” the waitress said, giving Berenger a wink and a smile before walking away. Ancel could help but feel a small pang of jealousy.

“You have a dog,” Ancel said, ignoring the sharp twist in his stomach. He had nothing to be jealous about.

“Bella.” A smile formed on Berenger’s face. He hadn’t seemed to notice the waitress’ subtle flirtation. “I’ve had her for about ten years now.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and began to scroll through it. After a moment, he turned it so that Ancel could see the screen. The picture was a better quality than the one Berenger had as his profile picture. The dog was large and all black with tan paws.

“She’s beautiful.”

“I don’t know how you feel about dogs, but she’s a sweetheart. I think you’d like her.”

“I haven’t been around dogs much.”

“Maybe you can meet her sometime. She’s older so she’s much more gentle than a puppy.”

Note to self Ancel thought. Google what it means when a man wants to introduce you to his dog.

The rest of lunch went well. Berenger handled most of the conversation, never delving too far into Ancel’s past or personal life. At the end of the meal, he handed over his credit card without a glance and completely looked over the number that was scribbled onto the bottom of the receipt. 

“Thank you,” Ancel said as they walked back to the entrance. “This was nice.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I’d like to do this again sometime if you’re interested.” 

He was very interested, probably too much.

“I am.” 

Some stupid lovestruck part of Ancel wanted to kiss Berenger. Or wanted Berenger to kiss him. As long as Bereneger’s lips were against his he didn’t care. 

Ancel replayed the lunch in his head again and again that night, cursing himself for all the things he did and didn’t do. He didn’t know how to deal with relationships or crushes; he never not the chance to learn how to handle them. This man who was miles out of his league was treating him with so much care and respect, so much more than Ancel had gotten from anyone past or present, that it made him panic and unable to think. And it was so, so stupid.

Ancel picked up his phone from his nightstand and dialed the second number on his emergency contacts.

“Hey, Ancel,” Erasmus said. “What’s up?”

“I think I went on a date with Berenger today.”

Erasmus’ squeal made Ancel have to pull his phone away from his ear. “Tell me everything.”

And so he did. And even after an hour of talking to Erasmus who had been in relationships and had had crushes, Ancel remained at square one having no idea what to do about the detective that had somehow stolen his heart.  
***  
December 12th

“Bella!” Berenger yelled desperately. “Bella, get down!”

The German Shepard had no less than tackled Ancel to the ground when the redhead walked through the door. Fifty or so pounds of fur and excitement pinned Ancel to the carpet and Ancel was laughing. Genuinely laughing. In that moment he didn’t have a care in the world while Berenger panicking about his dog.

Ten minutes later, Bella was happily chewing on a squeaky toy and Ancel was sitting on one of Berenger’s couches, trying and failing to brush out his hair.

“I don’t know what got into her.” Berenger stood in the kitchen, getting drinks for the two of them. The glasses were back on. He was also wearing a sweater vest. Ancel was fucked. “She’s never gotten that excited with a guest before. If anything, she’s usually hesitant around strangers.”

Bella looked up at her owner, toy in mouth, and bit down on it, responding to him with a loud squeak.

“So,” Ancel said, finally giving up on his hair. “What’d you have to do to get this apartment?” It was nice. The front door opened to a wide living room that connected to the kitchen and a large dining area. The wall across from the front door held a large balcony that gave a beautiful view of the city. The staircase leading up to the second story sat by the balcony door and directly underneath it was a grand piano. All of it seemed too much for one man.

Berenger looked around, nodding as he did. “It is a bit much, isn’t it? I’ve been telling myself that I’ll downsize, but I haven’t gotten around to it just yet. Bella likes having her own room, but perhaps this is too much space for just the two of us.”

“I didn’t think detectives were paid that much. I assumed you were rich, but this is on a completely different level.” Ancel momentarily thought back to their first meeting where Berenger had dropped two thousand dollars just to talk with Ancel privately. 

Berenger pursed his lips for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “I suppose I haven’t told you yet, have I.” He picked up their drinks and walked over to Ancel.

Ancel’s head tilted to the side in confusion. “Told me what?”

The detective carefully placed their drinks into the coffee table and sat down next to the redhead. “My parents,” he began. “Had old money from my father’s father. A large inheritance that had been in the family for generations. Both of my parents worked in the criminal justice system; my father was a judge and my mother was a prosecutor, so they made a considerable amount of money themselves. They met at their law school and got married soon after they both graduated. They began their careers as a happily married couple, working together to bring justice to the world. They were quite a team or so I’ve heard.” 

“So you’ve heard?” Ancel asked. Berenger smiled sadly. 

“They both passed away when I was around four years old. A malfunction on their plane caused it to crash. My grandparents on my mother’s side had been watching over me and they raised me after the accident. I grew up hearing stories of my mother and father from my grandparents and old colleagues of theirs. I suppose that’s what got me into my major. I could have lived comfortably without working a day in my life with the inheritance that I had been given, but I wanted to do something that my parents would have been proud of. I followed the family business so to speak. I wanted to carry on their legacy; to let them know that there’s a Leroux still trying to bring justice to the world.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I collected my inheritance not long after I got my bachelor’s degree and even a decade later, I find that I still have far too much for a man who just has himself and his dog.”

Ancel cautiously put his hand on top of Berenger’s and squeezed it. For a moment, he feared that he may have been too forward, but Berenger didn’t pull away.

“I didn’t really know my parents either,” Ancel said. “My dad was out of the picture before I was born and my mother-” He let out a dry laugh. “I’m not even sure my mother wanted me. She kept me though, doing the bare minimum to raise me. That was only until I turned eight and after that, I practically took care of myself. Mom was either out partying or getting drunk while I taught myself how to make Mac and cheese.” Ancel stopped for a moment and bit his lip. He wondered if he should stop before he said too much or said something that would scare Berenger away. Berenger didn’t look scared, though. He had given Ancel his undivided attention. So Ancel continued. “I don’t- didn’t like cops or anything like that because they didn’t do anything for me growing up. Around nine or ten, men started appearing in the apartment we lived in and they assumed that they were entitled to treating me and my mom like trash. Our neighbors called everyone, the cops, CPS, anyone they could get a hold of. No one ever came. No one ever did anything. I had to drop out of school because I kept showing up with too many bruises and people were asking too many questions. Then one day, my mom and her boyfriend get into a fight that turns into a screaming match, neighbors call the cops, cops come and find the mess that the ten year old in the house lived in. Only then was I sent to an orphanage.” Ancel noticed that Berenger was holding his hand. “After years of bullshit in that hellhole, I didn’t want to have to trust anyone anymore. So I took care of myself. I taught myself everything that I needed to know and I’ve gotten this far in life because I didn’t rely on anyone else. I haven’t wanted to rely on anyone else because I’m afraid of getting abandoned again.” 

“Ancel…” Berenger whispered. 

“And then I met you and…” Ancel could feel tears stinging his eyes. He rubbed them with his free hand. “And now I feel like I can-” Ancel was cut off by a vibration from the coffee table. Berenger’s phone was ringing. 

“I’m sorry. It can wait-”

“No,” Ancel said. “Answer it. It’s fine. It’s probably important.” He needed a moment to collect himself anyway.

“Right.” Berenger picked up his phone from the coffee table and answered it. “Auguste, I’m preoccupied right now-” He stopped, listening to whoever Auguste was. “Are you sure that it’s him?” More silence. He glanced over at Ancel. 

“Go,” Ancel mouthed. It wouldn’t be the last time they would see each other. There were things that were far more important than Ancel’s crush.

“I’m at my apartment right now. I can be at the station in about twenty minutes. I’ll see you soon.” Berenger hung up his phone and the room fell into silence for a moment. “There’s been a lead in one of my cases. Someone might have found our suspect and-”

“It’s fine. Your job is important to you. I should be getting ready for work anyway.” Ancel didn’t have work that day but Berenger didn’t need to know that.

“Right,” Berenger repeated. “I’ll walk you out.”

As Ancel walked back to his apartment, he cursed who ever the fuck Auguste was.  
***  
December 17th

“Are you at work right now?” Berenger sounded exhausted. Ancel glanced at the clock by his bedside. 1:38 AM. Both of them should have been asleep.

“No, I’m at home. Are you alright? You sound tired.”

“Yeah...I’ve been trying to close this case and I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You should be sleeping now.”

“I just wanted to ask you something before I forgot.”

Ancel didn’t make it obvious that Berenger could have texted him whatever he wanted to ask. “What is it?”

“A close friend of mine is having a get together on Christmas Eve. He has one every year and I wanted to know if you wanted to join me.”

“Is that something he would be alright with?”

“He’s more than alright with it. He said to think of it as an apology for interrupting us last week.”

Ancel clicked his tongue. “So this is the famous Auguste.”

Berenger laughed. “My boss, yes. I won’t make you go if you don’t want to, but I didn’t know if you were spending the holidays with anyone and wanted you to at least have me if you wanted me.”

Ancel more than wanted him. “I’ll have to think about it. I might be working that night.” That wasn’t a complete lie. It was very possible that Ancel was on the floor that night since most of the performers were taking the day off to spend time with family or friends.

“Just let me know.” 

“I will.” Ancel glanced at the clock again. “Now go to bed, detective.”

“I should be saying the same to you, Red.” Ancel knew then that Berenger was exhausted. The man couldn’t use a nickname if it killed him. “Good night, Ancel.”

“Good night.” The call ended and Ancel put his phone back on his nightstand. He closed his sketchpad and placed it next to his phone. His gift for Erasmus was done; Ancel just needed to add a few last finishing touches. Berenger, however, said that he didn’t want his friends getting him any gifts because he had more than enough already. That had only encouraged Ancel to think of a gift more. It had to be something personal. Something that money couldn’t buy. Something…

An idea popped into Ancel’s head. It was something very personal; something even someone as selfless as Berenger couldn’t say no to. After a quick Google search, Ancel found exactly what he was looking for. With such a short time frame left, it wouldn’t be easy, but Ancel was determined to make it work.  
***  
December 24th

Auguste’s house was beautiful. It was large, far larger than any one man needed but according to Berenger, he liked the extra space in case any of his friends or his brother needed somewhere to crash for an indefinite amount of time.

“Or,” Ancel said. “Perhaps you two just overestimate how much space one bachelor needs.”

Berenger laughed as he parked in the expansive driveway. Several other cars were already parked there. “You might be right about that. Here.” He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it over to Ancel. It was a small unwrapped box. “Just so I don’t forget to give it to you later.”

Ancel placed it on top of his gifts to Berenger. “I’ll open it later. We’re already late as it is.”

Berenger smirked. “I wonder who’s fault that it.”

“Don’t put the blame on me. It takes a long time to look this attractive.”

“You do look wonderful.”

“Shut up.” Ancel stepped out into the cold Veretian air and began walking up to the front doors of the house.

A blonde man in a suit stood in the foyer when they walked in. Ancel recognized him immediately as Lieutenant Auguste DeVere, a surprisingly unmarried man with a heart of gold and a handsome face. He wasn’t nearly as handsome as Berenger in Ancel’s mind, but he did certainly turned heads.

“There you are, old man,” Auguste laughed, pulling Berenger into a hug. He stood at a similar height to Berenger, perhaps around six foot against Berenger who was six foot two.

“I’m only thirty, you ass,” Berenger said. “You’re only a year younger than I am.”

“Younger is the key word here.” Auguste then turned to Ancel with a smile. “And you must be Ancel. Berenger has told us a lot about you.”

“He’s exaggerating.”

Auguste rolled his eyes and gave Ancel a wink before holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m happy that Berenger has finally found someone who makes him as happy as he deserves to be.”

“Auguste, we aren’t-” Berenger began as Ancel said, “We’re not together.”

Auguste frowned, looking between the two of them. “My apologies for assuming. Everyone is in the living room. Please make yourselves at home.”

Ancel was only mildly curious about the fact that A. Berenger talked a lot about him and B. Berenger talked about him enough for people to assume they were dating.

Berenger led the two of them to the living room where far less people than Ancel expected sat amongst the furniture. 

“Auguste prefers to have smaller gatherings,” Berenger said, answering the question Ancel hadn’t asked. “The blonde sitting in the loveseat with the wine glass is his younger brother, Laurent who is a prosecutor. The man next to him is his fiance, Damianos. Jord, our head homicide detective, is standing by the fireplace and Halvik is across from him. Orlant, our head narcotics detective, is on the right side of the couch and Nikandros, a defense attorney, is on the left. Halvik and Damianos are the only ones without a criminal justice occupation. Damianos is a personal trainer and Halvik is a self defense instructor.”

“Interesting,” was all Ancel could say.

“I think you and Laurent will get along well. He’s a bit cold at first, but he’ll warm up to you eventually. He’s not much of a drinker either, so he and I usually talk during these get togethers. He’ll respect your taste in fashion; he also thinks my jackets are ugly.”

“Because they are.” Ancel gave him a smirk as someone in the room cleared their throat.

“Quite conflicting appearances. I’m interested to learn how you two met.”

“You’re one to talk, Laurent,” Berenger said. “I don’t think you and Damianos could be more opposite.”

“Touche.” Laurent looked at Ancel, his attention focused on Ancel’s hair. “Does the curtain match the drapes?” His fiance choked on his drink.

“Laurent,” the man said, affronted.

Ancel raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Laurent clicked his tongue and smirked. “I like him.” 

His fiance, as well as the rest of the group, gave far more simpler first impressions. Damianos, a giant of a man, apologized for his fiance’s behavior while Jord gave him kudos for not being scared off so quickly.

They fell into simple conversation after that. Food and laughs and stories were shared as Ancel learned more and more about the people Berenger associated himself with. Berenger himself had kept silent, prefering to listen rather than to share stories. Ancel told a few of his own stories from work, including some of the more embarrassing experiences he’s had with clients.

“Wait,” Jord said, leaning forward. “This fucking guy actually cheated on his wife while she was right next to him?”

“Yep,” Ancel answered. “She was at the club for a friend’s birthday but only for the drinks and the guy paid three different strippers for dances and even paid for a backroom. She was fucking livid.”

“These backrooms,” Laurent cut in. “They’re no holes barred, correct? Anything can happen?”

“Anything within certain limitations. There’s still a shit ton of paperwork that needs to be filled out no matter what happens in the room. Most of the shitty people stay on the floor though. No one pays five hundred dollars and signs ten pages of paperwork to be an ass.”

“Which reminds me,” Auguste said. “Berenger, you were doing an investigation at White Rose, weren’t you?”

“That is actually how we met.” The whole room’s attention was on Ancel.

“Nothing happened, you assholes.” Berenger shot a glare over to Auguste who was on the verge of laughing. “It was an interview. I was working.”

“Of course,” Laurent hummed. “We didn’t assume otherwise. Which reminds me.” He gestured between the two of them. “You two aren’t together, correct?”

“Not…” Ancel wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence. They weren’t together by any means, but he wasn’t sure how to word it in a way that would make it obvious to Berenger that he wanted to be.

“We have a very specific relationship,” Berenger answered. “Nothing is clearly defined nor is it set in stone so things can very easily change.”

Laurent nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Alright then.”

The conversation changed from there, but Ancel couldn’t take his mind off of Berenger’s response. Ancel had made it more than clear that he was interested, hadn’t he? He assumed that Berenger was interested in him as well based on the lunches and dinners that they had shared and the conversations that they’d had. But what if he was wrong? What if had misread Berenger’s intentions? What if Berenger didn’t see him as anything more than a friend? Ancel wouldn’t be surprised if he did; he had known from the beginning that he was miles out of Berenger’s league. Berenger said that things could change, but what if they didn’t change in the way Ancel wanted them to? What if Berenger realized that he could do better and Ancel was left feeling like a pining idiot-

“Excuse me for a moment.” Ancel stood up, hoping that no one had heard the choke in his voice. He walked out of the living room, letting his feet guide him somewhere where he could be alone. He came across the dining room soon enough where on the other side of the room was a balcony. A place that Ancel hoped he would be granted a moment of peace.

The tears began falling before Ancel even opened the balcony door. He collapsed against the railing, his face buried in his arms.

“Ancel,” a voice said and Ancel wanted to scream. “Ancel, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” Berenger put his hand on his shoulder. “Did something happen?”

“Why am I here?” he choked out. He didn’t know where this sudden rush of emotions came from, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“What are you talking about? I brought you here because you were going to spend Christmas alone and I wanted you to have someone to-.”

“Don’t lie to me. Not you. Anyone but you.” Ancel’s arms were covered in black blotches from his smudged mascara.

“I’m not lying to you, Ancel. I wanted to spend the holidays with you. If I had known that this was going to upset you, I would have suggested something else.”

“The party isn’t upsetting me. It’s…” Ancel let out a loud, embarrassing sob. The tears kept coming despite how much he wiped them away. “I don’t understand you. I don’t get you. Why can’t I get you?”

“I’ve always been an open book with you. What isn’t there to understand? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand why you care! I don’t get why you’ve put me first so many times! I don’t get why I’m still here and why you gave me your jacket and why you gave me those fucking sketch pads!” Ancel felt himself collapse but Berenger, of course, didn’t let him fall. He never would. Ancel collapsed into sobs, burying his face in Berenger’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried this hard. He wasn’t sure if he ever had. 

Berenger carefully lowered the two of them to the floor and used his free hand to brush the hair out of Ancel’s face. He probably didn’t even care that Ancel was soaking his jacket with tears and snot and makeup.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Ancel hiccuped. He didn’t move his face from Berenger’s shoulder.

“The only thing I want from you is your happiness.” Ancel let out a choked laugh. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I said or did to make you feel this way, but I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault; I’m the fuckup between the two of us.”

“Ancel, you are no such thing. I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than you are.”

“Oh?” Ancel sniffled, tightly gripping Berenger’s sleeve. “And what am I?”

“You’re beautiful, stunning even. You’re intriguing. You’re quick. You’re witty and you’re brave and bold and absolutely wonderful.” 

Ancel felt ready to start crying again.

“I won’t ask you to tell me what’s wrong, but I do want you to know that I care about you, Ancel. Far more than I’ve ever cared about anyone else. You’re special to me.”

Special. Ancel was special to him. He meant something to Berenger. 

“You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“Maybe so.” Berenger rested his chin on top of Ancel’s head. “Would you like to go home?”

“Not alone.” Ancel didn’t want to outright admit that he didn’t like the idea of sleeping alone and he hoped that Berenger was smart enough to realize that.

“Of course.” Berenger brought both of them to their feet. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” Despite that, Ancel didn’t move from Berenger’s side until they had to seperate at the car. He pulled down the sun visor as the vehicle pulled out of the driveway. The man in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. “Ugh. I look like shit.” He wiped at the smeared mascara as much as he could before giving in and leaning back in his seat. Boldly, he reached over to the driver’s side and wrapped his fingers around Berenger’s wrist, pulling at it gently. Berenger took his hand off of the steering wheel and moved it so that Ancel could properly hold his hand.

Ancel fell asleep with Berenger’s thumb rubbing along the back of his hand.  
***  
The other half of the bed was empty when Ancel woke up. He could only vaguely remember what had happened the night before. Berenger had woken him up so that he could change into more comfortable clothing, but Ancel couldn’t recall ever actually changing.

Sliding out of the bed, Ancel found that he was only wearing underwear. His clothes sat folded on the nightstand next to him. Instead of putting them back on, Ancel walked over to the closet and dug through it until he found a button up he liked. Hanging it over his arm, he walked into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, he walked into the kitchen, his face and hair freshly washed and wearing Berenger’s shirt. Berenger stood by the stove, Bella by his feet, chewing on one of her toys. Ancel walked up behind them and sat on the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning,” Berenger said. He was wearing his glasses and a plain white shirt with a pair of sweatpants.

“Morning,” Ancel replied. He brushed through his hair with his fingers. “Expect me to move in very soon because I’m never going back to any other shower.”

Berenger laughed. “I suppose I’m not completely against the idea. According to you, my wardrobe could certainly use an upgrade.”

“You own ten gray sweater vests and six of the same brown jacket!”

“I told you that I did.”

“I thought you were joking!”

Smiling, Berenger turned off the stove and moved so that he was directly in front of Ancel. The redhead immediately wrapped his arms around his neck. 

“This is something, right?” Ancel whipsered. He ran his thumb along Berenger’s hairline.

“It could be if that’s what you want,” Berenger whispered back. “I’m certainly not against it.”

Ancel just nodded, pulling the detective closer to him. They remained in that position for a while, simply holding each other.

“Ah. I almost forgot.” Berenger pulled away from Ancel and moved over to the island behind him. The small unwrapped box sat next to Ancel’s wrapped gifts. “I brought them in last night after you went to bed.” He took the box in hand and held it out to Ancel. “Here. Open it.”

Ancel did. He opened the lid slowly until he could see what was inside. Two bright emerald and diamond earrings shone from inside the box. Ancel was speechless.

“I find that the green brings out your eyes. The matching necklace unfortunately won't be here until after the new year but-” Berenger was cut off by Ancel pulling him into another tight hug.

“I love them.” Ancel forced back the tears, not wanting Berenger to see him cry again. Instead he expressed his happiness through clinging to Berenger and not letting go.

“I’m glad. I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

Still holding the box close, Ancel said, “Open yours. They may not compare but…”

“I’ll love anything that you give me, Ancel.” Berenger leaned against the island and opened the larger gift. It was a framed picture of Bella that Ancel had done. His only reference had been the picture Berenger had on his Facebook so he had done what he could with it.

“My god,” Berenger gasped. “You truly are amazing.”

“Shut up.” Ancel didn’t even bother to hide the blush on his cheeks. You still have another one to open.”

The second gift was a ring with a date engraved on the inside.

“October 26th,” Berenger mumbled. 

“The day we met. I couldn’t think of any other significant dates. I know they aren’t much but-”

“Ancel, they’re wonderful. I love them. I couldn’t ask for any better gift.”

Ancel wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss Berenger senseless. Bella, however, had other plans and chose to jump on Berenger until Berenger surrendered. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll feed you.” He looked up at Ancel once more. “Would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then you might as well move in.”

Ancel smiled. “I’ll consider it.”  
***  
February 14th

“Ancel~” Erasmus said in a singsong voice. “You have someone waiting for you in room three.”

Ancel smiled at him through the mirror, his fingers still running along the emeralds that hung from his ears. “Tell Berenger that he doesn’t have to make appointments or spend two thosuand dollars just to see me.”

“It’s more romantic that way, is it not?”

Ancel rolled his eyes, the smile still on his lips. “Yes, because there’s nothing more romantic than spending Valentine's Day at a strip club when you could be having dinner with your boyfriend.”

“You could quit now and be settled for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” Ancel stood up. “But I can’t surprise Berenger with new lingerie if I buy it with his credit card.” He gave a wave to his friend as he walked out of the room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun~”

Ancel walked quickly to the backrooms, excited to see his boyfriend despite the fact that they had spent the morning together. Berenger had woken him up with a gentle kiss to the forehead, a far too large bouquet of roses, and breakfast in bed. Ancel’s gift to him wouldn’t be given until later in the night.

Instead of being inside of the like Ancel expected him to be, Berenger stood outside the door with another bouquet in his hands.

“More flowers?” Ancel laughed. “Isn’t there enough at home?”

“Those are roses,” Berenger responded. “These are tulips. They’re completely different.” He cupped Ancel’s cheek gently and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Ancel stood up straight and met him in the middle for a real kiss. Berenger’s free hand moved to Ancel’s neck, the warmth sending shivers down his spine.

Ancel pulled away first, despite wanting to kiss the man until they were breathless. “I hope you don’t intend on fucking me at work.”

“Of course not. You’ve told me expicitly that you’ll only have sex on my nice sheets.”

“Then why the surprise visit? Not that I mind seeing you of course.”

“I wanted to know when you got off.”

Ancel smirked. “Well it doesn’t usually happen until after a good fuck but occasionally-”

Berenger lightly pinched Ancel’s cheek. “I meant when you got off of work.”

“Boring. And not until midnight. You’re better off just waiting for me at home.”

“It won’t be Valentine’s anymore when you get home, but I suppose we can make due. I’ll see you soon then.” Berenger pressed his lips to Ancel’s cheek. “Oh. And there’s something for you inside. Don’t forget to grab it before you leave.”

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve it. Text me when you’re finished. I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

“Like I said.” Ancel kissed him properly again, smiling when Berenger reciprocated. “I’m spoiled.” Ancel waited until Berenger had walked down the stairs before opening the door. 

On the couch was a large stuffed bear, almost as tall as Ancel himself, holding a box of chocolates. Wrapped around the bear’s shoulders was one of Berenger’s jackets.

Ancel smiled. He really was spoiled.


End file.
